Highlander's Heart: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 3)

by Mariah Stone

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He gazed at her, his brown eyes dark with anguish.

  “Are ye all right?” he said.

  Kate breathed out. Surprisingly, she really was. She knew what she needed to do. Knowing where she came from explained so much. She could finally feel like herself. Maybe not the “herself” she very much liked, but herself nonetheless.

  He reached out and touched her cheek, his hand cold and wet, and pain pierced her skin. She winced and his arm fell.

  “Sorry, lass,” he said.

  “You saved me. This is nothing.”

  “What happened? How did ye end up there?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Nae.”

  “I thought maybe you saw my note and came looking for me…”

  “They stole Thor yesterday, and I had no means of coming home earlier. Why? What did the note say?”

  She sighed and looked away. Was she silly to have just left without talking to him first?

  “I decided to go back to Inverlochy and try to find my way home. Some memories have returned to me over the last few days. And now I know that people need me back urgently.”

  He looked at the loch. “Oh.”

  They kept silent. Kate wasn’t sure what she could say without revealing too much. Or should she tell him everything?

  No, surely he’d think she was insane.

  “Did ye remember a husband?” Ian’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Someone ye love?”

  “No husband. No one in my…past life. Except for my sister and my nephew.”

  “So ye have a family.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Far away from here. So far away, you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve been far away. I lived in hell for eleven years. There’s little ye can say that would sound unbelievable.”

  Kate sighed. “I need to go back, Ian. I cannot return to Dundail with you. You really should go and protect your people from the English, because they’re making their way north from the MacDougall lands to Inverlochy and they’re raiding and taking everything on their way.”

  Ian’s jaws tightened, his nostrils flared. “Bastarts.”

  “Yeah. They are. But I must go to Inverlochy and reach my family. If I don’t go back, my sick sister and my ten-year-old nephew will be on the streets.”

  Ian’s face fell. “Ye want to go alone to Inverlochy? Through lands infested with the English?”

  Kate’s cheek stung at the word “English.” She opened her mouth, but Ian interrupted.

  “And ye think I will let ye go?”

  “Ian, I have to try.”

  “To try and die?” he scoffed. “Nae. I’ll tie ye to the horse if I must, but I wilna let ye go alone.”

  Kate gasped. “Tie me to the horse? Ian! It’s my business. It’s is not your concern.”

  His chest rose and fell quickly as he glared at her, his fists clenching.

  “Ye’re wrong, lass. ’Tis my concern. Ye’re my concern.”

  She was his concern? Did he care about her? Kate’s heart fluttered in her chest.

  “I wilna let another innocent person die because I failed to protect them,” he said. “So ’tis what I suggest. Ye wait until I deal with the damned Sassenachs. Then I’ll take ye myself. Make sure ye’re safe.”

  Kate closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. He was right. Of course he was right about safety. But could she wait even a few more days? She had no idea. She could only hope Mandy and Jax were still all right and that if she was delayed a little longer, nothing bad would happen to them.

  But what about the well-armed English, who were a much bigger force? How would one man, however powerful, deal with them? Was it possible she was putting herself in more danger staying with Ian than leaving him?

  But there was something about him that made her feel safe. Somehow, she knew that he would never let any harm come to her. He’d find a way.

  “It’s the wisest choice,” she said. “You’re right.”

  Besides, the thought of spending a few more days with Ian lit her up like a Christmas tree.

  “Good,” he said. “I wouldna want ye to go through that hell.”

  His eyes sad, as though he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and there wouldn’t be an end to it.

  She wanted to share the burden.

  “Tell me about hell,” Kate said.

  His eyes widened in surprise, then he frowned and looked at his hands. They were clean now, no more blood.

  “Ye want to ken about hell? Picture what I did back there to those men and repeat it a hundred times.”

  Kate’s mouth went dry—not from the knowledge that he’d killed a hundred men, but from the pain she’d heard in his voice. It was as though his very soul ached, torn by the memories of the deeds he’d done.

  “Picture that,” he rasped. “And tell me then that ye still want to ken.”

  She laid her hand on his forearm, and he jolted a little but didn’t break the contact.

  “I want to know, Ian,” Kate pressed. “If you think the fact that you saved my life, by whatever means you could, terrifies me, it doesn’t. If you think my opinion of you changed, it did. I respect you even more now. No one has ever done what you’ve done for me. All I have for you is gratitude. All I feel for you is—”

  Love.

  Was she crazy to think she was in love with him after knowing him for so little time? But her heart tap-danced inside her chest, and her whole body floated, as light as a feather.

  She didn’t say the word out loud, but Ian’s eyes darkened, and a mixture of a hope and pain flashed through his face.

  He turned to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her to him. He paused, eyeing her, his gaze an intoxicating combination of admiration and doubt.

  “Where have ye been my whole life, lass?” he said.

  “So far away, you won’t believe me,” she whispered, then stood on her toes, reached out to him, and kissed him.

  Chapter 17

  Her lips were like petals—delicate, supple, and warm. Her body pressed against his was heaven, the feel of her stirring fire in his loins. He drank the kiss like a healing draft, sweet and fresh and magical.

  He eased his tongue into the depths of her mouth, swiping it against hers with gentle strokes. She responded, the touch of her tongue sending a succulent wave of pleasure through him. She tasted of forbidden delights, of the secrets of the world, and he wanted to know all of them.

  Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he tightened his arms around her, wanting to have as little space between them as humanly possible. And as few clothes…

  He tugged her to the ground and they sank to their knees, then he gently laid her on the grass and stretched himself out next to her. He coveted her, wanted to cherish every part of her body.

  He’d never imagined she would be so accepting of his confession just now, and not think him a monster after what she’d seen him do to the English. Her reaction humbled him. He didn’t deserve a bonnie lass like her. She offered her acceptance so easily.

  It was a streak of luck he’d encountered those Sassenach soldiers and could free her. If he’d returned home and found out she’d left without saying goodbye to him, he would have hurt more than he’d like. A painful heaviness formed in his chest. She was here in his arms now. The biggest blessing of all.

  He brushed his hand against her unmarred cheek, marveling at the creamy, silky skin under his callused fingers. He trailed them down her neck to her tender collarbone, then stilled, pausing in awe at the curve of her breast under the material of her dress. Continuing his exploration, he cupped the deliciously ripe form. Kate gasped and arched her back a little to lean into his palm.

  He massaged her breast, the abundant feel of her making him harden even more. Oh, the little golden-haired temptress. He leaned over her, nibbling at her nipple, then suckin
g the hardening bud into his mouth. Even through the damp fabric, he tasted her—a wee bit salty and sweet and a feast of feminine softness.

  Kate tangled her fingers in his hair and brought him closer.

  “Oh, Ian.” The moan was born deep in her throat.

  He’d never heard his name sound like a prayer before.

  “Aye, lass,” he rasped as he moved to her other breast. “Ye will see the moon and the stars.”

  She looked up and him. “I only want to see you.”

  His throat tightened to stop the heart-wrenching emotion from spilling out.

  “I havna seen anyone so bonnie as ye,” he said. “And I nae will.”

  He returned to worshiping her, grasping her waist, then kissing his way down her hips. He kissed every part of her—every inch of her sacred, every detail of her body a benediction.

  He reached her ankles and ran his hands up her legs under the skirt of her dress, her skin there cool and smooth.

  Crack.

  Crack. Crack.

  He looked up the shore, frantically trying to find the source of the sound. Thor looked in that direction as well, his ears moving to-and-fro.

  “We better go, Katie,” Ian said. “As much as I want to continue.”

  She bit her lower lip and sat up, flushed, her lips swollen and red. He would see her swollen and red like that in the most intimate part of her body.

  Red and swollen from pleasure.

  But not now.

  First, he needed to bring her to the safety of Dundail.

  He rose and gave her his hand. “Come, lass.”

  She took his hand and he helped her up, bringing her into his arms.

  Crack. Crack.

  He put her behind his back and picked up his sword.

  A small deer appeared from the bushes and stared at them. Ian itched for a spear or a bow. He sighed out with relief.

  “Ye would have made a great dinner of him, wouldna ye?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel…”

  “Ah. I canna hunt with the sword. And anything ye cook is goin’ to be heaven. Speaking of…” He climbed onto Thor’s back and helped Kate up. “Let’s go home. I’m ravenous—for yer food and for ye.”

  She giggled, and they trotted down the coast.

  But the joy of seeing Kate’s smile faded away as he started thinking about what would await him in Dundail. The troops were headed their way; although, he was sure they’d take several days before they reached Dundail—with all of their tents and supplies, armies moved slowly.

  Still, he’d need to think quickly of how to defend his home and his lands. And it was painfully clear he wouldn’t be able to do it without his tenants.

  And his clan.

  Sharp pain pierced his gut at the thought that he’d woken up the monster within himself and killed that innocent lad without even realizing it. How many more would he need to kill?

  Chapter 18

  “Ah, ye silly lass. What were ye thinking, leaving like that with nae word, alone?” Cadha lamented.

  Kate was just getting off the horse in front of Dundail house, with the help of Ian’s strong arms. Cadha wobbled towards Thor, waving her arms in the air, her cheeks flushed like two bright apples.

  Was Cadha in such distress because of her? Kate’s feet landed on the ground, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Sorry, Cadha,” Kate said. “I didn’t think you’d be so worried.”

  “Why of course I was worried, lass.” Cadha clasped her hands. “Even Manning was, in his way.” She turned to Ian. “And ye, where have ye been?”

  The sun was setting behind the mountains on the other side of the loch, painting the sky in gold, orange, pink, and violet. The gray walls of the house were warm now, golden brown in this light, as though it had been freshly removed from the oven. The sight was homey and sweet, and something melted in Kate’s chest at the image.

  “Out,” Ian said curtly and led Thor into the stables.

  Kate followed him with her eyes. He glanced back briefly, his gaze lingering on her and launching a whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach. She hid a smile, then wheezed out a breath.

  She returned her attention to Cadha, who studied her with eyebrows drawn together.

  “What happened? Why did ye leave but now came together with the lord? Are ye playing at something, lass?”

  Any trace of smile on Kate’s face fell. “No, no. I wanted to go home but was caught by the English on my way. They thought I knew something about the local fortifications or something and tried to get it out of me. Ian saved me.”

  “Ye call him Ian?”

  “Yes—what else should I call him?”

  “What a servant should call their master. He’s yer lord.”

  Kate nodded. “Yes. Well. Where I come from, people aren’t always so official.”

  Cadha cocked her head and propped her hands against her hips. “So ye remember now? And where is that ye come from?”

  Kate shrugged, uneasy now from the interrogation. “Far away. Listen, what do we do for dinner?”

  “We?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll make something. Ian—I mean, the lord—hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

  Kate passed by Cadha into the house, feeling the woman’s suspicious gaze on her like a heavy weight.

  The kitchen was empty, but full of the smell of bread and cooking. Kate looked into the cauldron. In the now familiar medieval fashion, there were several linen pouches where vegetables, meat, and eggs were cooking. The water had already stopped boiling, steam rising.

  The table was still covered with flour. And, like before, peels, crumbs, and dirt covered the surface.

  Manning.

  At least there was a bucket with fresh water. She poured it into the empty barrel where she did the dishes and took a clean cloth. Cleaning always brought her a strange sense of satisfaction, like she was blessing the house, and raising her worth by doing something useful. Wiping the table was something she’d done thousands of times in Cape Haute, working as a busser and a cleaner after her mom died. The familiarity brought nostalgia, her chest tensing and aching sweetly.

  She wanted a burger, she realized.

  It was one of the dishes she hated making on a daily basis because it was so simple, so uncreative—now she craved it!

  Could she make one for Ian? He’d loved her sandwich, so maybe he’d love a burger…

  But how would she make it without a stove? There was a cast-iron pan hanging on the wall, and she could put it into the bread oven and grill the patties over the coals. Not having a meat grinder, she’d have to mince the meat with a knife. She’d lack some spices, of course, like pepper… And she wouldn’t have real buns, but bread would do. Without ketchup, mayonnaise, and pickles, she’d have to add moisture and a nice tang by melting thin slices of cheese over the patties.

  Oh yes. Fresh parsley, garlic, and onion, and just a tad of rosemary would go a long way towards adding flavor.

  Giddy with anticipation to have Ian try it, Kate went to work. She put on a simple linen head scarf that Cadha had given her to keep her hair out of the food. There wasn’t any beef, so she made chicken patties.

  Ian came into the kitchen as she was working. He picked up the edge of her scarf and fiddled with it.

  “Ye look bonnie,” he said. “I’ve sent Manning to the northernmost farms and a boy to Falnaird, my cousin Craig’s home,” he added. “He must be there now with his wife. Many of my clansmen being northeast with Bruce, I canna reach them in time. But I hope Craig and his men will come. Mayhap Owen if he’s around. I need all the help I can get, and I ken my clan will do everything they can.”

  Kate nodded. “Sounds like a wise decision. Do you think you’ll have enough time to prepare?”

  “There’s never enough time, but we probably still have a few days. The pigheaded Sassenachs dinna ken ’twas me. They wilna track us here, down the loch. The English dinna ken our lands. T
here are several farms on the way and Manning will warn them. Surely, the Sassenachs will want to replenish their provisions there. On the morrow I raise an army. But I canna do anything more today.”

  Kate sighed. “I’d say you’ve had enough adventures for today. You must be starving.” Kate wiped sweat from her forehead. Heat from the coals blazed into her face as she stared into the oven to make sure she wouldn’t burn the meat. “Wait another fifteen minutes. I’m almost ready.”

  He frowned. “Minutes?”

  Oh darn. Did they not measure time with minutes yet? Right. She hadn’t seen any clocks. They probably hadn’t even been invented yet.

  “I mean, soon.”

  He stood by her side. “It smells divine. What are ye cooking, Katie?”

  Playfully, he laid his hand on her back and slowly ran it down to her bottom.

  “Whatever ye’re cooking, I verra much like how ye do it.”

  A pleasant shiver ran through Kate where he touched her. “A surprise. From home.”

  “As long as ye’re eating with me…”

  “Oh, I am. I’m suddenly so homesick, nothing will do but the food. Why don’t you get us a bottle of wine?”

  “Oh, aye. I’ll put water to boil for bathing and set the table, dinna fash yerself.”

  He set to work bringing fresh water from the well and pouring it into the cauldron. A short time later, Kate held a plate loaded with medieval burgers. They were essentially sandwiches, but not bad considering the conditions. Who knew that after eight years of grilling dozens of burgers every day, Kate would be craving them?

  She took the plate into the great hall.

  Outside, night had already settled in, and the windows glowed indigo. Candles and flowers decorated the lord’s table: bright-yellow marigolds, purple thrift, and white flowers she didn’t know the name of. Plates and cups and a clay jug were already on the table. Ian stood up as she walked in.

  Kate’s heart thundered against her ribs as she set the plate of burgers on the table. This was like a date. A romantic, candlelit dinner date with a hot Highlander in a medieval castle.